This is a scene from a novel I'm writing called Task Force Arrow.  The commander of the warship Far Walker, Demmend Greggory is in his quarters when the alarm sounds.  Intruders have gained entry into his ship...

Greggory’s blood ran cold at the announcement.  Council ships were rarely breached in combat.  A greater rarity was for one to be breached without warning.  Greggory pushed himself to his feet and rushed to an emergency storage compartment next to his closet.  He tapped a command code on the compartment access keypad and the enclosure’s door slid open revealing a small arsenal.  Greggory tried his comm again only to receive more static.  The lack of communication was very likely the result of enemy jamming.  This new enemy evidently was not only powerful enough to breach a Council vessel; they had the wherewithal to block internal transmissions.  This did not bode well for the Task Force.  Greggory took out a carbon coated flak vest and put it on.  He removed a Wingstinger pistol, a combat blade and a bandolier of micro-grenades which he draped diagonally across his torso.  With communication access cut, Greggory was denied any intel on where in the Far Walker the intruders were located, their numbers, and combat capabilities.  One thing that Greggory could be reasonably sure of:  his Wingstinger was going to damage whoever or whatever it hit.  The commander inhaled a deep breath, opened the door to his quarters, and exhaled slowly as he eased cautiously into the corridor.

He needed to make his way to the Analysis Section.  If the intruders were capable of jamming transmissions, chances were they could hack the ship’s computer, accessing the Far Walker’s layout.  There was a major blind spot in the ship’s schematic.  The Analysis Section was not included.  No one knew where it was save the Commander and Executive Officer.  If ninety nine point nine plus percent of the crew did not know the whereabouts of the backup bridge, odds were greater that the enemy knew even less. 

Greggory’s quarters was in a section called the Commander’s Deck.  It was three levels below the bridge, two levels above the Analysis Section.   At the far end of the corridor next to a junction was an access chute.  Greggory wasn’t going to risk taking an elevator.  He ran in that direction, closing in on a bulkhead hatch leading to the chute.  At less than twenty yards from his objective, beings wearing gun metal gray armor and matching helmets rounded the junction in the corridor.  Greggory found himself face to face with six intruders.  Reflexes Greggory had not used since his days as an elite operative took hold of his body like a possessive spirit.

Next thing he knew his Wingmaster was level with the nearest intruder’s head.  Greggory’s finger was pumping the pistol’s trigger of its own murderous accord.  One target down.  Blood splatter from the first intruder’s exploding helmet had not blossomed to its fullest glory when a second projectile burst apart another head.  Two targets down. 

Greggory’s third shot took his foe dead center of the body.  Fourth and fifth targets dropped, one struck in the head, the other an inch or two below the neck.  The sixth intruder had time to raise a tubular weapon and fire at this lethal apparition. 

Greggory spotted the motion when he was putting a tungsten round into the fifth intruder.  Which meant the commander had an elusive move mapped out by the time the last opponent’s weapon was pointed at him.  Greggory dove beneath a sizzling stream of directed energy.  Before he belly flopped on the deck, Greggory fired a shot tearing a huge hole in the right intruder’s leg just above the knee.  The armored foe emitted a shrill cry and toppled sideways, his weapon discharging another burst that skewered the ceiling.  Greggory let loose two more shots.  The second at gut level, the third through the heart…or where the heart would be on a human.  The intruder’s pained outburst ceased as if an off switch had been flicked.  Six targets down.

Inconveniently, the last intruder chose to die in front of the access chute hatch.  “You’re slowing me down,” Greggory growled at the corpse.  He grabbed the body’s foot and pulled a few feet until the hatch was clear.  Greggory picked up the thumping of distant footfalls.  He scurried to sneak a peak down the corridor from whence his dead opponents had appeared.  A  mob of gray armored pirates were tramping in the commander’s direction. 

Greggory pulled a micro-grenade from his bandolier, thumbed a detonation node and flung the object around the corner.  Seconds later, a deafening CRACK WHOOSH filled the corridor space, followed immediately by a faint vibration along with the satisfying screams of wounded victims.  Greggory pulled the hatch release with alacrity, slipped into the chute and shut the hatch behind him.  He grabbed hold of a metal ladder, gripped a spoke with one hand and holstered his pistol with the other.  Afterward, he wrapped his arms around the ladder and slid down. 

A booming noise erupted from above the commander.  Shards of debris showered down the shaft, some of it pelting Greggory.  The intruders discovered the hatch and had blasted through it, hoping to kill him.  Greggory was approaching the next level below.  He had to make a decision as to whether to exit prematurely or continue his slide until he reached the desired level.  Greggory squeezed the ladder tight, braking his descent.  He asked himself the following question: what was the most effective way to neutralize a hostile in a confined space?  Answer: drop something on him, preferably something that could blow up.  Greggory pressed the hatch release and kicked the hatch open.  He glanced up in time to spot that something falling toward him.  Great minds.

Greggory’s blood ran cold at the announcement.  Council ships were rarely breached in combat.  A greater rarity was for one to be breached without warning.  Greggory pushed himself to his feet and rushed to an emergency storage compartment next to his closet.  He tapped a command code on the compartment access keypad and the enclosure’s door slid open revealing a small arsenal.  Greggory tried his comm again only to receive more static.  The lack of communication was very likely the result of enemy jamming.  This new enemy evidently was not only powerful enough to breach a Council vessel; they had the wherewithal to block internal transmissions.  This did not bode well for the Task Force.  Greggory took out a carbon coated flak vest and put it on.  He removed a Wingstinger pistol, a combat blade and a bandolier of micro-grenades which he draped diagonally across his torso.  With communication access cut, Greggory was denied any intel on where in the Far Walker the intruders were located, their numbers, and combat capabilities.  One thing that Greggory could be reasonably sure of:  his Wingstinger was going to damage whoever or whatever it hit.  The commander inhaled a deep breath, opened the door to his quarters, and exhaled slowly as he eased cautiously into the corridor.

He needed to make his way to the Analysis Section.  If the intruders were capable of jamming transmissions, chances were they could hack the ship’s computer, accessing the Far Walker’s layout.  There was a major blind spot in the ship’s schematic.  The Analysis Section was not included.  No one knew where it was save the Commander and Executive Officer.  If ninety nine point nine plus percent of the crew did not know the whereabouts of the backup bridge, odds were greater that the enemy knew even less. 

Greggory’s quarters was in a section called the Commander’s Deck.  It was three levels below the bridge, two levels above the Analysis Section.   At the far end of the corridor next to a junction was an access chute.  Greggory wasn’t going to risk taking an elevator.  He ran in that direction, closing in on a bulkhead hatch leading to the chute.  At less than twenty yards from his objective, beings wearing gun metal gray armor and matching helmets rounded the junction in the corridor.  Greggory found himself face to face with six intruders.  Reflexes Greggory had not used since his days as an elite operative took hold of his body like a possessive spirit.

Next thing he knew his Wingmaster was level with the nearest intruder’s head.  Greggory’s finger was pumping the pistol’s trigger of its own murderous accord.  One target down.  Blood splatter from the first intruder’s exploding helmet had not blossomed to its fullest glory when a second projectile burst apart another head.  Two targets down. 

Greggory’s third shot took his foe dead center of the body.  Fourth and fifth targets dropped, one struck in the head, the other an inch or two below the neck.  The sixth intruder had time to raise a tubular weapon and fire at this lethal apparition. 

Greggory spotted the motion when he was putting a tungsten round into the fifth intruder.  Which meant the commander had an elusive move mapped out by the time the last opponent’s weapon was pointed at him.  Greggory dove beneath a sizzling stream of directed energy.  Before he belly flopped on the deck, Greggory fired a shot tearing a huge hole in the right intruder’s leg just above the knee.  The armored foe emitted a shrill cry and toppled sideways, his weapon discharging another burst that skewered the ceiling.  Greggory let loose two more shots.  The second at gut level, the third through the heart…or where the heart would be on a human.  The intruder’s pained outburst ceased as if an off switch had been flicked.  Six targets down.

Inconveniently, the last intruder chose to die in front of the access chute hatch.  “You’re slowing me down,” Greggory growled at the corpse.  He grabbed the body’s foot and pulled a few feet until the hatch was clear.  Greggory picked up the thumping of distant footfalls.  He scurried to sneak a peak down the corridor from whence his dead opponents had appeared.  A  mob of gray armored pirates were tramping in the commander’s direction. 

Greggory pulled a micro-grenade from his bandolier, thumbed a detonation node and flung the object around the corner.  Seconds later, a deafening CRACK WHOOSH filled the corridor space, followed immediately by a faint vibration along with the satisfying screams of wounded victims.  Greggory pulled the hatch release with alacrity, slipped into the chute and shut the hatch behind him.  He grabbed hold of a metal ladder, gripped a spoke with one hand and holstered his pistol with the other.  Afterward, he wrapped his arms around the ladder and slid down. 

A booming noise erupted from above the commander.  Shards of debris showered down the shaft, some of it pelting Greggory.  The intruders discovered the hatch and had blasted through it, hoping to kill him.  Greggory was approaching the next level below.  He had to make a decision as to whether to exit prematurely or continue his slide until he reached the desired level.  Greggory squeezed the ladder tight, braking his descent.  He asked himself the following question: what was the most effective way to neutralize a hostile in a confined space?  Answer: drop something on him, preferably something that could blow up.  Greggory pressed the hatch release and kicked the hatch open.  He glanced up in time to spot that something falling toward him.  Great minds.